


Ripples

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related: Deep Water, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:52:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair struggle with maintaining a working sentinel/guide relationship while they're involved with other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples

## Ripples

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine, yet. 

Summary: Jim and Blair struggle with maintaining a working sentinel/guide relationship while they're involved with other people. 

Notes: The idea for this story occurred because of a discussion about the unpopularity of the guys being paired with others in the TS universe. There are spoilers for "Deep Water". 

Warning: If you don't like the idea of Jim and Blair being sexually and emotionally involved with others, don't read this series. This is slightly AU and has a prominent original character. 

* * *

Ripples  
by Grey 

"Jim, come on, man. You don't need to be alone right now." 

"I'm fine, Chief. Go on and see Sam or whomever. I'm just going to watch a little TV." 

"And brood." 

Jim took in the concerned look and shrugged. No need to lie. Blair knew him too well. "Maybe. I just buried a good friend today, my partner. I'm entitled." 

"To a point, yeah, but you've been beating yourself up long enough. Time to let it go, man." 

"I can't, not yet anyway. Just give me some time." He picked up his beer and took a deep swallow and then walked to the open windows. Clearing his throat, the words stumbled a little. "Jack would've hated the whole thing, the music, the uniforms. He hated ceremonies." 

"Funerals serve a purpose, Jim. They give closure." 

"To some people, yeah. Anyway, I appreciate you going in my place. I don't think I could've handled it." 

"No problem." Blair drank for a moment and then spoke quietly. "I saw you sitting up on the hill with Emily. Did you two work things out?" 

"As best we could, yeah. She's moved on. She's happy." 

"Must be nice, huh?" 

"Yeah. Must be." Jim clenched his jaw as he flashed suddenly to the memory of betrayal, Emily's hot flesh pressed to his, her tongue licking across his nipples. He shuddered as he pushed the invasive thoughts away, the revulsion oiling his gut. Jack deserved better. 

"I still think I should stay home." 

"You do and Sam's liable to hurt you." 

"I'm not seeing Sam right now." 

"No? What happened?" 

"You don't want to know." 

"Was her name Denise or Kally?" 

"Asshole." 

"Detective, thank you. I saw you flirting with them the other day. Sam's not blind. Not smart for you to do your reconnaissance all in the same building." 

Blair took a deep breath and ran his hand through his dark curls. "You know, sometimes I think you really believe I'm some sort of badass player, like I'm a dog. I just like women." 

"No kidding." Jim smiled and shook his head. "Nothing wrong with that, Chief. You're young. Play all you want, just be careful." 

"Always." Blair walked to the sink and tossed the empty bottle in the trash before straightening his shirt. "Well, if you won't let me hang out here, guess I'll head out. Call me if you need anything." 

"Yes, mom." 

"God, what a prick." The words came out teasing, Blair's blue eyes as playful as his voice, but his face darkened before he spoke again. "Seriously, Jim. I'll keep the cell phone on this time, okay?" 

"Okay, Chief." 

"Later." 

Jim stared out the window as Blair shut the door behind him. His eyes stung as he watched the sky swallow the sun, his lover's funeral washing down the day with grief and shadows. Jack died alone, died while Jim fucked his woman, a woman Jack loved more than he loved Jim. Fuck. He mourned a man who shouldn't even be dead and the guilt tainted his heart with a slurry of self-loathing that just wouldn't go away no matter how he tried to starve it. 

* * *

Five beers later, the alcoholic buzz softened the knock. It took several more raps and Simon's booming voice to rouse him from the sofa. "What are you doing here?" 

"Thought I'd come by." Simon pushed past him into the loft. "Where's Sandburg?" 

"Out." 

"I'm surprised." 

"Don't be. I had to practically throw his scrawny ass out." Reluctantly Jim closed the door and then stepped deliberately to the refrigerator. "Want a beer?" 

"Got any left?" 

"Sure." 

Simon's dark eyes studied him, the worry magnified by his glasses. "You look like shit, my friend." 

"Yeah, well, I buried my partner today." 

"I know. Let me have one of those." He took one of Jim's beers and leaned against the support beam. Dressed casually, he wore tight jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the loose white cotton weave a stark contrast to his ebony skin. "You okay?" 

"People keep asking me that." Jim moved around him and headed back to the sofa, his legs taking more careful management than before. Settling down against the cushions, he sighed. "I'm just tired, Simon." 

"It's been a long few weeks. It's a lot to take in, finding the body, that shit with IA, and then finally knowing what really happened. But it's over, Jim. It's time to let it go." 

"You sound like Sandburg." 

"Nobody said the kid wasn't bright, a pain in the ass, maybe, but still bright." 

Jim chuckled, Simon's tone of mixed admiration and irritation at his partner amusing. "He grows on you." 

"Like fungus." 

The humor faded suddenly as Jim frowned, his face serious. "I owe him a lot, Simon." 

Simon moved closer and sat on the armrest, his muscular thighs spread around it, riding it, stretching the denim. "I know you do, Jim. He's a good kid. Just don't tell him I said that." 

"Your secret's safe." 

Jim wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath, his friend's heady scent a mix of cigar and Simon, coffee and salt making him hungry for contact. Not for the first time, he contained his attraction and looked away, closing down his senses enough to think. "So, how's Daryl?" 

"Busy being a typical teenager. Knows everything and thinks I'm old-fashioned." 

"You are old-fashioned." 

"Like you're in the middle of modern. Yeah, right. Those white socks say it all, Jim." 

Pulling up his left pant leg, Jim studied his sock. "What's wrong with white socks?" 

"Not a damn thing, if you're old-fashioned." Smiling, Simon put his beer down and then slipped over to sit on the couch next to Jim. "I like white socks. I think they fit you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." Simon's hip pushed against his, the heat radiating up his body. Shifting, his arm over the back of the couch, behind Jim, the larger man spoke softly. "I'm sorry about Jack. I know you loved him." 

"He was my partner." 

"I know. And more." 

"What?" The warm rush of discovery flushed his skin. "What are you saying exactly?" 

"I may have been new back then, Jim, but I knew what was going on with you and Jack. I saw how you were with him and I know how bad it got after he disappeared." 

"No, you don't, Simon. You don't know the half of it." The words choked in his throat, the other man's closeness drawing them out, a magnet to his sadness. "You're right. I did love him, but not like you think." 

"You weren't lovers?" 

Jim met dark eyes, stunned, his breathing stalled for several long moments before air crawled back to his lungs. "You already knew?" 

"I knew." 

"Why didn't you say anything?" 

"It wasn't my business. You never did anything at the station. I figured, what the hell? You were both better men for being together." 

"Shit." 

As Jim moved to stand, Simon's hand gripped his wrist and held it. "Don't. Just tell me about it. I'm here to listen." 

Words drowned in his throat, overwhelmed and unformed. Instead, he lowered his face to his hands and wet his palms with his loss. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer, the embrace a comfort. Shaking against his friend, Simon's heartbeat and deep shushes thundered in his ears, the soothing mix a delivered grace he didn't deserve. 

* * *

Blair shoved the book away and leaned back in his chair, tired and pretty much frustrated. Concentration failed him as his mind kept wandering back to Jim, to the funeral, and all the nasty revelations over the last few weeks. Reaching for the coffee, he drank and spit the cold liquid back in the cup. Disgusted, he got up to rinse it out and get something fresh to drink. Just as he turned on the water, a knock at his office door got his attention. "Blair?" 

"Drew. What are you doing here?" 

"I was about to ask you the same question. Anything wrong?" 

"Why do you ask that?" 

"Well, it's Friday night and you're in your office." 

"Funny. I didn't know English profs had a sense of humor. Isn't that against the law or something?" Blair signaled for the older man to enter and lifted a cup. "Want some?" 

"No thanks. I avoid caffeine." 

"Right, I remember." Pouring himself some more coffee, Blair turned and leaned against the counter as he admired the view. Dr. Andrew Marshall stood by his desk scanning the books, his eyes behind gold wire-rims brown and alert, taking in everything. Almost fifty, his physique held up well, broad shoulders, slim hips, large hands with long fingers that begged to touch things, always exploring and graceful. A handsome face framed with light sandy hair even now only had the few wrinkles that came with too much thinking, too much laughing, the faint lines showing his compassion and his love of life rather than his age. "So, Drew, it's Friday night for you, too. What's up?" 

"I was just talking to Gloria. She had some references for her new article that she wanted me to see." 

"Man, we all need to get a life." 

"So, I keep saying." 

Blair flushed and looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I know. I told you before it was just bad timing." 

"What about now? Want to get a drink? Or is it still bad timing?" 

"Actually, it's great timing. I could use a drink. Tommy's Place?" 

"I was thinking more like Drew's place." The smile made him look like Indiana Jones on a good day, the treasure found and rescued. 

Laughing, Blair shook his head as he cleaned and dried his mug. "Just a drink, Drew. In public." 

"Well, you can't blame a guy for trying." 

"No, but it's been a long day. I went to a funeral and I'm tired." 

Drew stepped closer, his face more solemn. "Funeral? You didn't say. What happened?" 

"It's a long story." 

"I'm a good listener." 

"It was my partner's partner. He disappeared a few years ago, but they just found the body. It's been a tough few weeks. Jim's not taking it very well." 

"I can imagine." 

Meeting the golden brown eyes, Blair's voice softened. "I'm sorry. I forgot about Jason." 

"It's okay. It's been four years." 

"Still, you two were together forever." 

"Seemed like it, yes." Drew touched the small of his back and nudged him to the door. "Come on. Let's go get something to drink. Sounds like we could both use some cheering up." 

"No more than a couple though. I don't drink worth shit and I need to get home to check on Jim before too long." 

Drew remained quiet as they walked outside the door and Blair locked it. As they headed down the corridor towards the exit, he spoke in a hush. "You care about Jim a lot." 

"Yeah, I do. He's my best friend. We live together." 

"And you work at the police department with him, too, right?" 

"Yeah, but we're not lovers if that's what you're asking." 

Drew stopped walking, his voice lower. "I didn't ask that." 

"But you wanted to." 

"Well, yes, but I wouldn't ask. That's none of my business." 

"Which is why I said it, and you're right, it's none of your business unless I want to make it your business." 

His eyes narrowed as his head tilted. "Which means what?" 

"I just wanted you to know." 

"Oh." 

"Great comeback for a famous writer." 

Grinning, his face slightly flushed, Drew shrugged as he walked on. "That's on paper. In real life I tend to be a bit more reserved." 

"Which is why you keep trying to pick me up." 

"I said reserved, not blind or celibate." 

Blair laughed and headed out the doorway, his mind racing and wild, not sure if he wanted to take a chance or play it safe. Funerals always made him crazy, made him want to take risks. Drew Marshall made him want to fall into a sweaty heap and fuck blind forever. 

God, what would Jim say? 

* * *

"You feeling better?" Simon rubbed his hand up and down Jim's spine, the contact sparking a craving for more. 

"Yeah. I'm sorry." 

"For what? There's no sin in crying, Jim. That macho bullshit of holding it all in, it's just that. Bullshit." 

Nodding, Jim closed his eyes, drinking in the warm lushness of Simon's persistent touch. It made him reckless. "I appreciate you showing up like this." 

"I'm not just your boss. I care about you. I hope you know that." The older man squeezed his forearm gently as his other hand moved up his spine to wrap around the nape of his neck. Fingers teased his skin and Simon's breathing quickened. "I know the timing sucks, but I've wanted to say this for awhile, I just never had the courage." 

"And now?" 

"Now I'm sitting here wanting more than anything to kiss you." 

Reaching up, Jim cradled Simon's face and drew him nearer. He captured full lips and gasped as his lover's tongue probed into him, greedy and forceful. His cock woke up and took notice as Simon explored the world between them, massaging his bulge, working him as Jim swallowed his husky moans. He lay back as Simon leaned forward, his larger bulk holding him down, covering him as he ground his hips harder. He groaned and Simon hesitated. "You okay?" 

"More than okay, but I think we should take this upstairs while I can still think." 

"If you can still think, then I'm losing my touch." 

"Not hardly. It's been a long time, Simon. I just want this to be good." 

"I'm not arguing." 

Together they awkwardly stood up and headed up the stairs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jim shook his head. "Wait." 

"What?" 

"Take off your clothes. Slowly." 

Following his command, Simon took his time to unbutton his shirt as Jim watched, his pupils wide and dilated. The smooth slide of the buttons through the cloth tickled his arousal, the sight and sound of the zipper going down twitching his cock. Toeing off his shoes, Simon peeled the socks in a hurry, balancing on one leg, not even holding on to the wall as he stripped. The jeans slipped off, the brush against Simon's dark skin making both men tremble. Finally, he hooked his thumbs in the elastic and rolled off the boxers, his erection bobbing free and ready. 

Jim shook his head in both admiration and desire. "Jesus." 

"Now you." 

"I want you to do it." 

"All right." Jim closed his eyes, drinking in the sensations, the hands moving to his waist to pull off his tank top. "Now, lie back." Guided down, Simon tucked and took his sweats and shorts off easily, his socks gone almost in one movement. He opened his eyes again, the mattress dipping down as the larger man crawled on the bed and kneeled over him, his knees on either side of his thighs. "You're beautiful, Jim." 

"So are you." 

Simon stroked the side of his face and then kissed him, a long delicious combination of tonguing and sucking. Then gradually he shifted, his body pressing down, his erection pumping as hard nibbles warmed Jim's cheeks, his jaw, his neck suddenly ravished by teeth and lips hungry for flesh. Jim bucked up and pursued the rhythm, the tension of his bones building, his brain firing quick bursts and sizzles down his spine, his ass clenching with each shove against him. 

A dark hand held his cock, pumping it full of perfect pressure, quick blasts firing his brain near breaking. He couldn't stop the ripples of pleasure as they broke through him, brought him up and jerked him with a scream, his sound gobbled up and drowned out by Simon's own release. Several slippery thrusts finished them both and the larger man slumped down, his breathing so fast and raspy that it scared him. "You okay?" 

Simon didn't answer, but ran his hand lovingly along Jim's belly, his fingers still warm and slick from coming. The smoky scent covered them both, their union blessed with their mixed essence. Hugging him closer, Jim rested his head on Simon's chest, the sweat already cooling between them. The loud heart pounded, but slowed gradually and after a few minutes, Simon finally spoke. "I don't usually get off that fast." 

"Been awhile?" 

"Oh, yeah. But worth the wait." 

Snuggling in closer, Jim embraced him, his body sex-happy and sluggish. "Thank you." 

Simon pulled the sheets up over their bodies and petted the velvet of the buzz cut. "I don't want to spoil this." 

Jim stiffened. "Then don't." 

"I don't want to, but I have to tell you something." 

"What?" 

"I think I love you." 

"Hell, Simon, I should hope so." 

The deep chuckle vibrated both their bodies as they settled down and Jim whispered, "I love you, too." 

"Thank god. I was worried." 

"You have a lot to learn about me." 

"Then teach me." 

Caressing the midnight skin of his lover's throat, he smiled. "With pleasure." 

The end 


End file.
